A young writer decided he would make better progress on the novel he was working on in a peaceful rural environment. So, he rented a cabin on several hundred acres of woodland in the hills of western Kentucky. He'd been there about a month without seeing another soul, when he heard a knock on the cabin door. He opened the door and has greated by a grizzled old man.

"Howdy," the old man said, "I'm yore neighbor from acrost th' crick. I seed th' woodsmoke frum yore chimley an' knowed they wuz somebody livin' here. I come over 'cause we'z gonna be havin' a liddle party tonight an' wuz wunderin' if'n you'd wanna drop by."

The young writer thought about it for a few seconds and replied, "Sure. I've been here alone for a month now and seeing some other people would be nice."

"Good," said the old man. "They's apt t' be some drinkin' at this party. Ya don't mind that, do ya?"

"No," replied the writer, "I don't drink much, but I don't mind a beer every now and then."

"All right," said the old man. "They might be some fightin' at this party. Izzat okay?"

"Well," replied the writer, "I'm a pretty peaceful guy myself, but I'm not going to get in the way if that's how you folks up here like to entertain yourselves."

"Good," said the old man. "They's probly gonna be some fuckin' at this party too. You don't have no problem with that, do ya?"

The writer thought for a few seconds and replied, "I'm from the big city and I've been to some pretty wild parties, some that have turned into downright orgies. I doubt there's much you folks would be doing that I haven't seen before."

"Well all right," said the old man. "Th' party's gonna start about seven. Just turn right outta yore driveway an' it's th' next mailbox, 'bout a mile down th' road." Then he turned and began to walk away.

"Wait a moment," called out the writer. "Should I bring anything to the party?"

The old man turned around and said, "You can if ya want to, but it don't really matter. They ain't gonna be nobody but you an' me."